


Haunts meet for thee

by Petra



Category: Battlestar Galactica 2003
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-21
Updated: 2007-07-21
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point.





	Haunts meet for thee

**Author's Note:**

> For Carla.

Everyone has a breaking point.  
  
Even Laura Roslin.  
  
One could, in fact, argue that she's entitled to take what she wants. Every now and again.  
  
Particularly if it's more asking for than taking, per se, and especially if she doesn't exactly ask.  
  
It's not asking to say, "Captain Apollo," just a little more gently than she otherwise might and touch his shoulder -- all right, his neck.  
  
It isn't much at all like giving him an order, even if his eyes widen and his mouth tightens as if she has. "Madame President," he says, and she can't help smiling at him. Such a good, devoted boy -- but not to any one person.  
  
Laura nods and pats his shoulder -- the collar of his uniform, at any rate, which shouldn't count as any sort of lewd proposition.  
  
He opens his mouth, licks his lips -- it is rather dry in her office, she should have that looked after -- and clears his throat. "I'm sorry, I --"  
  
"Whatever for?" Laura pulls her hand away. "You haven't done anything wrong."  
  
He takes a shuddering breath, and she feels the slight sting of guilt. If he has misunderstood her -- or understood her. She has yet to decide which option would be worse. "I should -- be going."  
  
She shakes her head slightly and takes her glasses off. "Must you?"  
  
Lee blinks. "Don't you want me to?"  
  
"There isn't a great deal of company I enjoy keeping, and yours --" She waves her hand. "If you'd care to stay."  
  
He looks more frightened at this offer than he must when he faces down a squadron of Cylons. "Madame President, I --"  
  
"You don't need to stay," she says, regretting her urge to push him and fighting the urge to kiss him. "But --"  
  
He frowns quickly, and in that moment, he looks like his father. "Is there anything more I can do for you?"  
  
She says, "Yes," before she can censor herself. The same urge that got her in such a tangle with Adar is surfacing again, and she thinks she can see an answering wickedness in Lee's -- Apollo's smile. She puts her glasses back on.  
  
A moment later, he is all business again. "Please, then. What do you need?"  
  
It would be most fair to say, "Kiss me," and give him the chance to deny her aloud. Laura stands at her desk instead and leans across it, trying to remember all of the reasons why she shouldn't be doing this. She remembers instead how he looks at her, how he smiles at her gentle teasing and wants so very badly to be helpful.  
  
Apollo gasps when she kisses him and touches her shoulder, feather-light.  
It is more than enough to allay her concerns. "Come here," she says instead, and leans back, breaking the kiss.  
  
He probably ought to hesitate, but he's a captain and demonstrably fearless. "By your command," he says, and his smile -- always bright, always far too brief -- lets her relax a little.  
  
Laura's breath is still coming shorter than she'd like. "It is a shame," she says, and touches his cheek, "that your other duties interfere with your liaison work so often."  
  
Apollo shivers and gives her a quick quirk of a smile. "Yes."  
  
She kisses his forehead. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, here."  
  
He hesitates a moment, then kisses her, deliberate and -- yes, hungry. He is no more free to have relationships with his subordinates than she is \-- but he is not that, precisely, to her. "You're not. You couldn't -- not like this." Apollo touches her breast through her blouse and wrinkles his nose. "I don't want to overstep, either."  
  
She chuckles and covers his hand with hers. "You're not, either." She leans in close enough to whisper in his ear, "There are still boundaries, Captain, or I'd be pushing you to your knees."  
  
He shudders and gives her a glance so different from his earlier fear that she could swear the way he smells has changed, though that's insane, even in this closed cabin. "I'll do my best," he says, and kneels with the smooth grace of youth.  
  
"Oh," she says, and sits on her chair to hide -- inasmuch as she can -- the shaking in her knees.  
  
Apollo is somehow more diffident for a moment, until he puts his hand on her thigh. "This is what you wanted, yes?"  
  
She can't help smiling at him. "Yes. Though not what I thought I might have."  
  
He licks his lips again. "You can -- I --" He looks away. "I didn't think I could have it, either."  
  
"It's all right," she says, and it's been so long since everything was all right, she almost laughs at how hard it is to say such a simple phrase.  
But Apollo is deft, and it only takes a moment of balancing for him to get her underthings out of the way, and the smile -- in his eyes, even as he kisses her thigh -- makes her think that for once she's not lying.  
  
He smiles at her until she can't see his eyes because her own have closed, and he pets her thigh as he licks her, teasing her into shivering. She knows exactly how long it has been since anyone else touched her so intimately, and she covers her mouth with her hand so as not to frighten herself, or him, or anyone who might be walking by.  
  
Laura used to be able to be so much quieter, but she is not as cold as she once was, nor as practiced. He fumbles a little, but when he finds the right, gentle strokes that make her hips shake, he makes a soft noise \-- low and quiet under her own more desperate, muffled cries -- and undoes her, moment by moment.  
  
She has enough of her old habits that she doesn't come close to calling his name, and has lost enough to let herself rest her fingers on the back of his head. She could push, could hold him there, if either were at all necessary, but he takes his cues from the light pressure so well that she hardly wants to.  
  
Another time, perhaps, and it is the thought of that, along with the sweet friction of his tongue, just so, that makes her come, shaking with it as she tries to stay in that perfect, painless moment.  
  
He slows down a little, then stops when she pats his shoulder. His mouth and chin are shining and wet, and he looks both pleased with himself and slightly lost. "Was that enough?"  
  
She still has paperwork to be done, and will until she loses office or until the end of her life, whichever comes first. There ought to be enough hours in the day to push him back down and thrust her hips against his mouth until the Colonial Fleet stops mattering, but there aren't.  
  
She smiles and gestures for him to stand up enough to kiss her. He'll need to wash before he meets anyone else, or there will be more rumors about the President than there already are, and with more justification. "That was lovely."  
  
He hums against her mouth, then tenses and backs off, glancing at her chronometer. "I have to go."  
  
She has never regretted his departure so sharply, nor had she realized until now how badly she wanted to feel him shake with pleasure for her. "All right," she says, and hands him a handkerchief. "You're sure you can't stay another five minutes?"  
  
He smiles quickly. "Another time, Madame President."  
  
"Tomorrow," she says. "I want to discuss the tylium demands of the heavier cargo ships."  
  
He wipes his mouth and nods. "I have to fly CAP, second shift. After that?"  
  
She kisses him again. "That would be fine, Captain."  
  
His grin is sincere and sweet, and she wants to make him groan through it right now. "I look forward to it." He picks up his papers, nods to her again, and leaves.  
  
She watches him go and lets herself treasure the moment for a minute, then settles in to work.


End file.
